My Soul to Keep
by psiChic
Summary: Ten years was a long time. 120 months, 4380 days. One kiss and a few tears couldn’t erase a decade of happiness, could it? Maybe ten years wasn’t enough. Oneshot. Spoilers for 4.03, features extremely Wee!Chesters, pre-series, Mary POV.


Hello again! This is another oneshot, but pre-series this time. I know there are probably loads of Mary POV fics out there since _In The Beginning_, but I couldn't resist. Let me know how this one matches up! :D

Thanks to my beta, PsychicWonderKitty, as always! (hugs)

Disclaimer: Sure, the Winchesters are mine. Supernatural's mine. The Impala's mine. Jared and Jensen, mine too. (is a compulsive liar) Ahem. :D

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**My Soul to Keep**

_May 2__nd__. The day my whole world stopped, the day I made the best decision and the biggest mistake of my life. Of all our lives. I was selfish. Weak. Alone. He lay there, dead in my arms, and I…I _had_ to. I try to regret it, I really do, but then I look around me, at our little family and I know I would make the same choice every time. The demon said he'd be back in ten years. Ten years and my bill comes due…But what does that mean? I believed him when he said it wasn't my soul. And who would want to take John – he's not a part of anything. I have Dean, but he's just a child…I pray every night that he's not the payment, the punishment. I tell him angels are watching over him; the devil's trap under his bed is just an added precaution. I thought I had all my bases covered. That is, until one night in August…_

**August, 1982**

It was raining outside, the storm had been brewing for hours and the weather man on TV promised it would continue on throughout the night. John was working late at the garage. I'd hoped he be home soon – I worry about him driving on wet roads in the dark.

Dean was down the hall, brushing his teeth by himself because "big boys don't need help" taking care of themselves. He was on a "do it yourself" kick lately, his little independent self very proud to be tall enough to reach the sink when he stood on the stool. Lately all he'd wanted was to dress himself, tie his own shoes, buckle himself into the Impala, get his own juice and so on. I let him do most of it – suggesting which shirts he choose and helping him in most cases, but still, my baby was growing up.

I was in our bedroom, unmaking the bed and keeping an ear out for Dean. He was only three, after all. And I hardly ever let him out of my sight. My little rambunctious ball of energy, always getting into trouble with the sweetest smile and mischievous eyes. John says he could get away with murder, says those green eyes could turn any woman to mush. That I'm too soft on the kid. He's probably right, but I don't care. An extra cookie here or there can't hurt that much.

"Mommy! All done!!" came a little voice from down the hall. I smiled to myself and walked to the bathroom. There he was, grinning up at me, showing off his work. I had to admit, for a kid his age he'd done pretty well. Dean had great hand-eye coordination. He'll be a good athlete someday, I know it.

"Good job, buddy. Did you do your tongue?"

"Aaagghh." said Dean, sticking his tongue out for me to inspect.

"Hmm. How about your molars?"

"Wha's a mowar?" asked Dean, tongue still hanging out of his mouth. I laughed.

"Your back teeth, kiddo. Let me see."

He opened wide, and I could see the few remains of his macaroni and cheese. I shook my head.

"Not quite, Dean. Mommy's turn to help." I grabbed his little red toothbrush and applied some toothpaste.

"But Mommy, I did it!"

"And you did a good job. It's just the hard-to-reach places you need help with. Open up."

"No!" Dean pouted. The little guy actually crossed his arms and shook his head.

"Dean…" I used my warning tone.

"But Mommy –"

"Now, Dean."

Finally, he opened up and let me get to work. Too soft on him? Psh. I smiled to myself as I finished up, Dean's squirms only slowing me down just a little.

"Alright now, time for bed." I shepherded him down the hall to his bedroom, turning off lights as I went.

"Daddy not home yet." he stated, as if that fact made it impossible for him to go to sleep.

"He'll be home soon. And he'll be upset if he finds you still awake. Now scoot, up in bed you go." I scooped him up and plopped him down on his bed, trying to imitate the 'crash landings' John gives him.

"Story?" asked Dean, still trying to stall the inevitable.

"Not tonight, kiddo. It's already late as it is. Aren't you sleepy?"

He shook his head furiously, showing me all the energy he still had left. I smiled again, in spite of myself.

"Well Mommy's sleepy." I fake-yawned, making just as much a show of it as Dean did. "I might just lay down right here on your bed."

Dean giggled. "No, Mommy! This my bed."

"I know, but I – just – can't –" I pretended to collapse onto him, snoring loudly.

Dean's giggles shook the whole bed. "Mommy!!" He tapped, very gently, on my head, little fingers tangling in my hair.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I must have just fallen asleep right here. I'm ever so tired." I sat up and yawned again.

"You go bed, Mommy. Night time." Now Dean was using his 'authoritative tone'. I resisted a giggle of my own.

"Alright, but only if you do too. Deal?" I was tucking him in even before he'd answered. I knew I'd won.

"Okay." His eyes were already drooping. _Not tired, huh?_

"Prayer time." I folded my hands on top of his. "_Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take_. _Amen_."

He said it with me, just like every night since he learned to talk. God wasn't such a big thing for me growing up – hunters weren't that into a higher power who let all this carnage go by unchecked – but I wanted every protection I could get for Dean. If there was a God, he _had_ to be looking out for my baby.

"Good night, Dean." I kissed his forehead and swept the bangs out of his eyes. He'd need a haircut soon. "Angels are watching over you, Love. Sweet dreams."

"Sweet dweams, Mommy." He said it sleepily, eyes closed and arms curled around his favorite teddy bear.

I left his room, pulling the door to on the way out. I was a little nervous about the storm waking him, but he hadn't mentioned it yet. He'd had a big day that day; I'd let him run around the park for almost two hours and he'd skipped his nap while we ran errands.

I took a quick shower and changed into my nightgown, ready to get back to scanning the Sunday paper. I may have quit hunting nine years ago – _Nine years. One year left_ – but that didn't mean I let my guard down. If anything strange happened in Lawrence, I had friends I could call. Just because I'd given up the hunt didn't mean innocent people had to die.

John got home about twenty minutes later, soaking wet but with a huge smile on his face. He was happy about the job he and Mike were working on – apparently word had spread about just how great a mechanic he was. A big-to-do businessman had come to him specifically to have his vintage Rolls-Royce fixed up. I was proud of him – he used to be insecure about his job, afraid of being called 'just a mechanic'. But I never cared. He was normal, my very own all-American apple pie and white picket fences civilian. God, I loved him.

"What's gotten into you?" He chuckled, after the kiss I'd given him had turned into a little bit more than a congratulatory peck.

I smiled at him, running my hand through his hair. "Nothing. Just celebrating."

I kissed him again, our hands wandering. Outside the storm raged on.

**Three Weeks Later**

Well…I was late.

I took Dean with me to the corner drugstore and bought a home pregnancy test, but I was pretty sure I already knew what the results would be. Call it intuition, a gut feeling, or maybe just that sneaky feeling of hope I hadn't even known I had.

When we got back home, I put Dean down for his nap and went into the bathroom. Five or so minutes later, and there it was. My answer. Or…our answer. Two little blue lines. Positive. I was pregnant.

I took the other test just to be sure, but the result was the same. I was…ecstatic, to say the least. I called John at work and his whoop of excitement hurt my ear but made me laugh out loud. He took off early and spent the rest of the day at home with me and Dean. Neither of us could stop smiling. It was probably one of the happiest days of my life.

We'd decided not to tell Dean about his new baby brother or sister until we got the official word from my doctor. Like I said before, I was pretty positive that the baby was coming, but John wanted to be sure so I agreed.

Usually when I went to the doctor, John would stay home from work and watch Dean. But the day of my first appointment Mike was sick, and the rich Rolls-Royce guy wanted his car back. With all the excitement, John had been spending less time than he probably should have at the garage. He apologized profusely to me, over and over, about not being able to get off.

"It's fine, John, really. I'll leave Dean with Susan. Make a play date out of it for him – her Max isn't that much older than Dean." I told him. It really wasn't that big of a deal, John had been there every step of the way the first time around and I knew he'd come if he could.

"But Mary, this is important. I should be there. I want to be there." He put his hand on my midsection, over our baby.

"I know you do. But you also want to get paid, don't you?" I smiled and playfully pushed against him with my hand. "It's just one appointment. I'll tell you everything that happens."

John wasn't happy, I could tell, and he wouldn't stop apologizing, but he did finally go to work. I dropped Dean off at Susan's and went in to see the doctor.

I had a blood test and an ultrasound, everything was normal. The baby's heartbeat was something I knew John would hate missing, and I'll admit it, I cried a little at the sound. There he was, our baby. Hearing the strong and steady thump-thump for the first time made it all so much more real.

"Everything looks good here, Mary. Do you have any questions?" asked Dr. Martin after I'd gotten dressed and met him in his office. He'd been the one to deliver Dean; I liked him.

"No, not really. He's healthy, though?"

"Oh yes, the baby's heart beat is strong, you're doing well. Has morning sickness started?"

Oh God, morning sickness. I seemed to have forgotten that part. "No, not yet."

"Well, that will come along soon enough I'd guess." He smiled in that grandfatherly way he had and stood up. I stood too. "Oh! I almost forgot,"

Dr. Martin rummaged through his papers, checking for something. I was still thinking about – dreading – my soon to be morning sickness. I hated throwing up, I really did.

"Ah. Your expected due date. Let's see…" he looked down again and then back at me. "May 2nd."

I froze. _May 2__nd__?_ _No…no no no no._ "A-are you sure?" I croaked. Something seemed to be lodged in my throat.

He glanced down again. "You said conception was five weeks ago?"

I unstuck my throat. "Yes."

"May 2nd. Congratulations again, Mary. Tell John not to beat himself up over missing this one, but I'll expect to see him here next time." He chuckled and left the room.

I was vaguely aware that I was supposed to follow, but my legs didn't seem to work. _May 2__nd__. "Ten years I swing by your house for a little something, that's all." The demon wanted permission. Permission for something I'd have on May 2__nd__. May 2__nd__. _I couldn't breathe. My hand flew to my abdomen, tears springing to my eyes. _What have I done?_

I left the doctor's office in a daze. I don't know how I made it back to Susan's in one piece – I don't even remember the trip. The only thing I could think about was the tiny person growing inside me and the fear that had my heart in a vice grip, my breaths coming shallow and too fast. _He's going to take my baby…My _baby_._Or what if he already had? What if this child wasn't a child at all? I grew up hearing stories about demonic children, changelings, incubi and succubi and their offspring…there were countless legends about women conceiving unnatural creatures, about monsters that hid their young in the wombs of mortals. I had to know, but I had no idea what to even look for. The pregnancy was normal thus far.

That thought calmed my suspicion that the baby maybe wasn't exactly _my _baby. But with that came the added dread of the due date. Coincidences don't just happen, not to Campbells. Not to me. If the child was mine and John's, a normal healthy human baby…then the demon must want it for something. Or just want it dead.

I had to take a minute outside Susan's front door to stop my shaking and rub the tears out of my eyes before knocking. Dean couldn't see me like this – he'd never seen me cry before, and I wouldn't know how to explain this to him anyway. I wouldn't be able to explain it to anyone.

"Hey Mary, come on in. The boys are just finishing up a snack." I startled when I looked up and saw Susan standing there, oblivious smile on her face turning to concern as she took me in. I must've looked horrible.

"Can I use your bathroom?"

"Oh – sure," She answered, barely making it out of my way as I pushed past her and practically ran to the nautical-themed bathroom.

Suddenly, I was _very_ nauseous. I emptied the contents of my stomach, but kept retching for a few moments after all the remnants of my lunch were gone. The tears leaking from my squeezed-shut eyes had nothing to do with the pain.

"Mommy?"

Dean. He must have heard me throwing up, or maybe Susan had just told him where I was. He sounded worried through the door though. Too worried for a three year-old. I sighed and splashed some water in my face, staring at my reflection. _Selfish, so selfish._ I dried my face on a hand towel and opened the door with the best smile I could muster.

"Hey, kiddo. You have fun today?"

His worry from before seemed to melt right out of his head as he looked up at me and started babbling about the train set Max had gotten for his birthday and the stray dog they'd seen through the bay front window. Miraculously, I was able to keep my fake smile and nodded or commented at all the right places. He was still talking as I grabbed his hand and led him to the front door.

"Thanks again, Suz. I really appreciate it."

"No problem, we love having him here. Are you sure you're alright? You want something to drink? You're pale." She was looking at me, studying my face. I couldn't handle it. I knew she was just concerned, but I couldn't help feeling like she was judging me. Condemning me. I had to get out of there.

"No, I'm fine. I'll call you or something. Bye." I pulled Dean outside and to the Impala – John had gotten a ride to work so I could have the car. I buckled him in and backed out of there, probably faster than I should have – especially with Dean in the car. _Great. Mother of the Year – that's me. _

I slowed down just as Dean started up his recounting of the day's events, then moved on to what seemed like any and everything that popped into his little head. I was thankful – always thankful – for him just then. He was the perfect distraction.

He was still going strong as we pulled into the driveway and as I started preparing to make dinner. I didn't call John.

"And the blue tuck went –"

"T_r_uck." I corrected absentmindedly as I poured the noodles into the boiling water.

"Twuck."

"The 'r' sound, sweetie. Like a pirate."

"Arrrrrgh!" Dean squeezed one eye shut and put up his 'claws' – Dean's pirates always had claws. We don't know why. I smiled.

"Right. Now use it in 'truck'."

His face screwed up in concentration as he tried to pronounce the word. "T – arrrgg- uck."

I had to cover my mouth to keep from giggling. Maybe I needed a better way to explain the sound to him. John and I didn't see the point of preschool if I was at home all day with Dean and could teach him the basics though. He already knew his ABCs and could count to ten, most days. Sometimes he forgot 3 and 4, which I didn't understand since he _was_ three going on four. I shook my head in amusement.

"Close enough. So what did the blue truck do?"

The conversation continued thus for the next hour or so. Dean talked nonstop – as if he somehow knew I needed to keep my mind off the sinking feeling devouring my insides. Maybe he did know – like I said, he's a smart kid. John came home at about six, just as I was putting dinner on the table.

He pulled me aside. "So, how'd it go?"

I tried to smile, really I did, but I'm pretty sure it came out as a grimace. "Fine."

"Fine? Just fine?" John was practically radiating with joyful anticipation. It hurt.

"Doctor says he's doing fine."

"_He_?" If possible, John's smile grew wider.

"Or she. I mean, we don't know. Not yet." I was having trouble speaking. Thinking, really. About anything other than that damn date. Truth is, I hadn't even thought about the sex of the baby. I was too worried about the species. "I guess it _feels_ like a boy…"

Something in my tone must have betrayed my thoughts, because John's smile dimmed. "What's wrong Mary?"

I had to look away from him or I would start crying. "It's…nothing."

"Hey," He took my chin in his hand and turned my face to his. "Tell me what's wrong."

Now I'd done it. I had to tell him something, I knew, but how do you tell the love of your life that you sold your unborn son to a demon to bring him back from the dead? I searched my mind frantically for an excuse. I settled for something at least _close_ to the truth.

"It's just…the due date. It's May 2nd."

John stared for a moment, confused, before realization dawned on him. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Hey, you know what? This is a good thing. A day with so many painful memories deserves a few happy ones, right?" He smiled again, hopeful, trying to get me to do the same.

"John, I don't want… Every birthday I'll be thinking about _them_, about how they aren't here with us. About what happened that night –" I stopped talking, but let the tears fall. This was dangerously close to the real reason I dreaded the date, but it wasn't really a lie either. I thought about my parents' death all the time – May was the hardest month of the year for me.

John pulled me into a hug. "Don't cry, it'll be alright. I know it's hard, but trust me. When this kid is born – it's gonna be one of the happiest days of our lives. And I mean, come on, probably only like seven percent of kids are actually born on their so-called due dates anyway."

I snorted. "Seven percent? You sure about those figures?"

He broke the hug but kept his hands on my shoulders, looking me straight in the eye with a hint of a smirk on his face. "Absolutely."

I couldn't help it; a smile found its way to my lips too. My boys – perfect distractions.

"So you think it's a boy, huh?" His sun-bright smile grew. "Nah, my money's on a girl."

I just shook my head and walked back into the kitchen. Dean was getting antsy – poor kid, all this food within striking distance and not allowed to touch it until the whole family sat down. He actually cheered when John and I walked into the room, grabbing his fork and shoving nearly half his plate of spaghetti into his mouth.

"Slow down, buddy." John ruffled his hair and took his place at the table next to me.

I smiled again and hoped to God John was right. Even a day early or late would be fine with me – I clung to his words, using the possibility as a talisman.

That night, and every night after that, I said an extra prayer for the little one inside of me, that he would stay just a little while longer than fate seemed to want him to. Like maybe that would void the deal. Maybe it would save him from what I'd done.

**Seven Months, Three Weeks Later**

"Push, Mary. He's coming now – you have to push." It was the nurse. I didn't know her name.

"Wait –" I gasped. _This can't be happening. Can'tbehappening_.

"Come on, Sweetheart. We're almost there." John. John was holding my hand. He wanted to see the baby. _No. Not today please not today. Can'tbehappening. _

"No, John – can't –" _Any day but today. Just a few more minutes, please. __Please_.

"Yes you can, Mary. Just a few more pushes, I promise."

_Promises. Deals. I made a deal. He's coming. PleasepleasepleasePLEASE._

"Ungh…" I couldn't help it – I pushed. _Please…_

The cries filled the small delivery room. They sounded just like Dean's had – loud and healthy and _human_. I held my breath. _Did he make it? Is it over?_

"Oh my God…"

"What? John, is he okay? John?" _Maybe he isn't. Maybe I was wrong about that too. Nononononono._

I couldn't see them – John was cutting the cord, the nurse was standing in my way. "John?"

"He's perfect, Mary. Perfect."

I exhaled.

"Look at that – he just made it. 11:59 pm." The nurse turned around to smile at me, but it only served to send a chill down my spine. "Congratulations, Mary."

My breath hitched at the same time a sob wracked my body – _I failed. I couldn't keep him safe. I condemned him. _I…was exhausted. The tears were pouring out now, and John had noticed.

_John thinks I'm crying from the pain. No, I've felt worse. Hunting's not exactly the safest gig and there're no drugs to ease the pain. Hunting…I should have known better. May 2__nd__. He's handing him to me now, and I'm…terrified._

"Hey, Beautiful. Meet your new son." John's voice was soft, his eyes wet but his smile blinding me. He carefully cradled the tiny figure in his arms, supporting the head, like he were made of glass.

The moment I saw him all thought stopped. My arms ached for him.

He gurgled, squirming a little in my arms. Not like Dean though – he'd cried and kicked the whole first week. This one…it was more like he was calculating, studying the new world he'd come into. I fell in love.

New tears rolled down my cheeks – but of happiness. And fierce protection. _Nobody will take him away from me. Not anyone or anything. _I exhaled again, but this time it was almost a laugh. I glanced up at John but couldn't keep my eyes off the little face for long. "He _is_ perfect."

"Ten fingers and ten toes. And he's a boy. Heh, I owe you some money."

I hugged the tiny bundle closer, tears dripping onto the blanket swaddling him. "Hey Sammy…"

The doctor and nurses left the room – I hadn't allowed them to take Sam to the Nursery. No matter what, I wasn't letting him out of my sight. John had agreed with me, but not for the same reasons. The plastic hospital crib stood empty by my bed and Sammy fell asleep in my arms.

Looking up at the clock on the wall, I sighed. 12:14. _May 3__rd_. My eyes still couldn't bear to leave the sleeping child in my arms for long, so I adjusted my hold on him and looked back down. My baby. My son. I couldn't help the hope that soared inside me.

_Ten years, it'd said. Ten years and one day now. Maybe…Demons lie. _

The End.

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A/N: Thanks for reading!!! Any and all feedback is much appreciated.

Oh, btw, for those of you who asked for a Part 2 of my story, _Chaser_, Sam's POV is in the works. :D

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